


I Do Adore

by phantomhivemast3r



Series: Ineffable Fics [10]
Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: After the Not-Pocalypse, Anniversary, Before the Not-Pocalypse, Child Warlock Dowling, Cold-Blooded Crowley (Good Omens), Crowley Created the Stars (Good Omens), Domestic Bliss, Established Relationship, F/F, Female-Presenting Aziraphale (Good Omens), Female-Presenting Crowley (Good Omens), Femslash February, Fluff, Gift Giving, Love Confessions, Napping, Sister Francis - Freeform, Snake Crowley (Good Omens), Thoughts of Marriage, Warlock tries to get them together, Wishing on stars, nanny ashtoreth - Freeform, the Dowling residence, use of angelic powers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-01
Updated: 2021-02-16
Packaged: 2021-03-12 15:13:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 4,075
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29137629
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/phantomhivemast3r/pseuds/phantomhivemast3r
Summary: This is a collection of stories written for the Ineffable Wives Femslash February 2021 event. Each chapter will be a new prompt, with tags updated accordingly. Most stories consist of pure fluff and wives being absolutely smitten with each other.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Series: Ineffable Fics [10]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1510436
Comments: 2
Kudos: 18
Collections: Ineffable Wives Femslash February 2021





	1. First

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aziraphale muses on when she first fell in love with Crowley.

“Hey… when did you first realize you were in love with me?”

The question made Aziraphale look up from her book, blue irises locking with golden. Crowley wore a quizzical expression, one of the many faces Aziraphale adored, this one composed of scrunched eyebrows and a slightly tilted head.

The question had been asked before, and each time Aziraphale had struggled to find the answer… simply because she didn’t _know._ Crowley’s response when asked the same thing was always immediate, a wide grin spread across her face as she proclaimed, “On the wall, of course!”

But Aziraphale found it harder to pinpoint the exact moment she fell in love with the demon now permanently fixed to her side. When she dwelled on the topic, _really_ dwelled on it, a few memories always came to the surface:

A dark night in the 1940s, standing on the ruins of a church with a briefcase of books.

A bright day at the Globe Theater, watching a play made all the more exciting by the appearance of her best friend.

A sunny afternoon at the Dowling residence, watching a not-very-demonic nanny coddling a child that always seemed most soothed in her arms.

A sky overcast with dust and fire, holding hands with the antichrist, his tight grip connecting angel and demon and confirming that they were indeed on their own side.

And yet, none of them felt like _the moment_ —the one distinct point and time when Aziraphale could say, “Yes, this is when I knew for sure.”

As Aziraphale mused on this topic and Crowley began growing restless, another image surfaced from the depths of Aziraphale’s mind. She didn’t even know if she could really call it a “memory,” the image felt so ethereal, not nearly as concrete as all the rest. Yet, deep in her heart she felt it was real:

A soft bed of clouds underneath her feet, the world illuminated in conforming white, except for one spark of brilliant red hair shinning against the pale backdrop.

Aziraphale smiled at the thought, grasping Crowley's hand in her own.

“When did I first realize I loved you?” she asked and Crowley nodded enthusiastically, very curious about the answer. Aziraphale chuckled and gave Crowley’s fingers a squeeze. “My dear, I believe I always have been.”


	2. Eyes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Crowley loves her angel's eyes.

Crowley loved Aziraphale’s eyes. One might think, between the two of them, the demon’s eyes were more interesting. However, if one actually _asked_ said demon, she would immediately disagree.

Crowley’s eyes were a symbol of danger, a warning of someone not to be messed with, and an easy way to gauge her excitement (depending on who was asked). They were the focal point whenever they were on view, and therefore Aziraphale’s eyes were often overlooked.

Crowley would say that this was quite a shame. If one stared into Aziraphale’s eyes, _really_ looked, they would see an unending depth of love—love for all living beings, love for books, love for a particularly scrummy meal at the Ritz, and even love for a _demon,_ of all things.

But there was more—oh so much more.

There was compassion for those less fortunate, adoration for those closest to her, and kindness for those that needed a little miracle. These are all the things Crowley would say, and so much more, when asked why she loved her angel’s eyes.

Of course, not being very adept at words at the best of times, Crowley would find it hard to actually articulate this when asked to describe the love of her life. She would ponder the question, lips pressed together in thought, before her smile softened and she said the only thing she could think to describe everything revealed in the those bright blue depths:

“Why do I love her eyes? Oh, that’s easy—you can see galaxies in them.”


	3. Book

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aziraphale isn't a fan of e-readers, but knows that they can often help people read easier. After finding nook at Crowley's apartment and reading its contents, she begins to rethink her initial assumptions.

Aziraphale knocked three times on the door to Crowley’s apartment before letting herself in.

“Hello, my love!” she called out, smiling when her demon’s familiar voice sounded from the direction of the bedroom.

“Hey, Angel, I’m just finishing getting ready—I’ll be out in a few. Make yourself at home.”

Aziraphale made her way towards the living room. What used to be a cold, sparsely decorated space now seemed a little cozier with the addition of a few bookshelves. Aziraphale’s eyes scanned the room, seeing if there were any new books to read while she waited for her love to finish getting ready. Her gaze landed on the glass coffee table, where one of those e-readers rested close to the couch.

 _A “nook,” or something to that effect_ , the angel thought with a slight wrinkle of her nose. As one might predict, she was not the biggest fan of electronic books; in her mind, nothing could beat the scent of parchment and the heavy weight of a favorite story in your hands. However, she did have to concede that e-readers had their uses, especially for people like Crowley whose eyes sometimes played funny tricks and made it difficult to read standard print.

Curiously, Aziraphale picked up the tablet. She wondered what Crowley might be reading these days, or if this was just another device she used for scrolling through social media and starting futile online arguments. She soon managed to turn the device on and the screen lit up, revealing an open web browser.

 _Ah, just as I thought_ , Aziraphale mused, then quickly gasped as she processed what she was looking at.

The browser was open to an unassuming search engine, which was currently displaying results for “gemstones meaning eternal love & devotion.” With shaking fingers, Aziraphale gently pressed the search bar, thanking the Lord above that Crowley had shown her how to use basic website search functions on one of her many, many lessons on technology.

The most recent result that popped up was “best ideas for wedding rings.”

Aziraphale felt a flood of love through her corporation so powerful she swore that she began to glow. She carefully turned off the tablet and replaced it on the table, deciding it best not to bring up the fact that she’d been snooping.

It was good timing, for she soon heard Crowley coming down the hallway and couldn’t help an absolutely radiant smile from crossing her face.

 _Maybe_ , Aziraphale thought, _those e-readers aren’t so bad after all_.


	4. Cold

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Crowley's snake-blooded nature makes her easily susceptible to cold, especially when out on a walk with her angel in the chilly winter weather.

Crowley sucked in a breath as yet another shiver wracked her body.

“Oh, honestly dear, why do you make things _so_ difficult?” Aziraphale asked from her side, sparing Crowley a glance that definitely meant “I-told-you-so.”

“Listen, I didn’t realize it was going to be _this_ cold—it wasn’t like this by the bookshop,” Crowley snipped, burrowing further into her scarf and admittedly rather thin jacket.

“But you knew we were going for a walk by the lake, and it’s always colder by water.”

“Yeah, yeah, you were right, I was wrong.” Crowley shivered again, knowing that her scarf would probably be thrown off by the force of it if Aziraphale hadn’t made a point to tuck it into her jacket as tight as possible.

“Goodness— _here_!”

Aziraphale grabbed one of Crowley’s gloved hands within her own and shoved them both down her jacket pocket. The demon was about to protest, not wanting to make the angel suffer along with her, but the words quickly died on her lips.

Warmth immediately began traveling up her arm, emanating from Aziraphale’s clasped hand. Within thirty seconds, her body was heated from within by the feeling of a pleasant hearth fire. Crowley stared at the angel, mouth slightly open in confusion.

“Oh good, I’m so glad that worked,” Aziraphale said with a smile, squeezing Crowley’s fingers.

“What… what did you _do?”_ Crowley asked, and Aziraphale’s cheeks flushed from something other than the frigid air.

“I directed some of my ethereal energy to my hand in hopes that it would warm you up.” She gave an apologetic grimace. “I apologize for not asking you first, but you were obviously suffering and even though I can’t use my powers on you directly, I thought that maybe the gloves would work as a barrier from the direct contact, and—”

“Angel,” Crowley said, cupping Aziraphale’s cheek in her free hand. Aziraphale met her gaze, her expression immediately softening. “I love you so much.”

“I love you too, dearest.” Aziraphale gave Crowley’s gloved palm a kiss and then began walking, pulling Crowley along with her. “Come on, you silly serpent; let’s get you back to the bookshop with a nice cup of cocoa—that will certainly warm you up.”

“You sure that’s not _your_ ideal rest of the afternoon?” Crowley asked with a raised eyebrow. Aziraphale merely laughed, the sound creating another burst of warmth from her hand, and Crowley fell even more hopelessly in love.


	5. Wish

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> While outside looking for shooting stars, Warlock asks his nanny what she wishes for.

**_The Dowling Residence, Before the Not-pocalypse_ **

“Look, Nanny—a shooting star!” Warlock bounced on his feet excitedly, pointing up at the sky as a bright light rocketed towards earth.

“Very good, my little devil!” Crowley said, giving the boy a tired smile. It was, admittedly, rather late for a six year old to be out at night, but Warlock had insisted on eating ice cream too late and the chef had decided to adhere to the request rather than risk a tantrum. This had earned Warlock praise from his nanny for “forcing the humans to bend to his will,” but an unintended consequence came in the extreme sugar rush that shortly followed dessert. Crowley tried many things to make Warlock sleep, but was at the end of her limit and decided to take the boy out to look at the stars as a last resort, thinking maybe getting out of the house would tire him easier.

“Momma says that you’re s’pposed to wish on shooting stars,” Warlock said, sitting down on the bench next to his caretaker ( _a miracle,_ the demon thought). Wide blue eyes bored through dark glasses and the boy asked, “What do _you_ wish for, Nanny?”

The question took the demon off-guard. She didn’t usually _wish_ for things; if she wanted anything, she could simply use her powers to get it.

_Well…_ , she thought, frowning slightly. _Almost anything._

“I bet _I_ know what you wished for,” Warlock said with a knowing look much too mature for a boy his age.

“Oh, is that so?” Crowley asked with a raised eyebrow. Before she could ask him to elaborate, a figure clad in tan and pale blue appeared from the direction of the greenhouse.

“Well, hello there, dearies; I _thought_ I heard you two out here!” Aziraphale said in the overdone accent she’d adopted for the Sister Francis persona. She wore a beaming smile and Crowley couldn’t help the way her normally-tight expression melted slightly at the angel’s presence.

“I _knew_ it,” Warlock whispered, quiet enough for only Crowley to hear.

“Hmm?” the demon said absently, trying unsuccessfully to focus on the boy at her side. She hadn’t seen Aziraphale in a few days due to busy schedules, so encountering her oldest acquaintance was a welcome thing, especially on a night such as this.

“Nothing,” Warlock responded in a sing-song tone. He grinned and gave his nanny a quickly hug, briefly gaining her full attention. “I’m feeling kinda tired now; I’m gonna go to bed. See you in the morning, Nanny Ash!”

With a wave to Aziraphale, Warlock dashed off towards the house.

“Warlock, what—ugh, that child,” Crowley groaned, rolling her eyes when she was sure the boy made it safely inside.

“Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to disturb you,” Aziraphale said in her normal voice, coming to a stop at Crowley’s side. “I just heard the two of you chatting and thought I’d see what was going on since it’s so late…”

“No, it wasn’t you, Angel.” Crowley sighed and rolled her shoulders, preparing to get up. She glanced at Aziraphale and paused, then settled back into the bench and patted the seat next to her. “Well, since you walked all the way over, you might as well sit and chat for a bit.” 

“That sounds lovely.” Aziraphale smiled and took a seat. She looked up and let out a gasp, pointing towards the sky. “Look, dear—a shooting star! Oh, did you make that one?”

***

Warlock watched his nanny and gardener from his bedroom window as Sister Frances took a seat on the bench, quite a bit closer to Nanny Ash than most people would dare. Satisfied at a job complete, he closed the curtain and crawled into bed, a grin on his face.

He might have been young, but even he could tell when people _really_ loved each other… even if they didn’t yet know it themselves.


	6. Stars

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Crowley and Aziraphale's anniversary is fast approaching, and Aziraphale decides to give Crowley her gift a little early this year.

“My dear, close your eyes for a moment; I have something for you,” Aziraphale said softly. Crowley raised a curious eyebrow but obeyed, noting the nervous excitement in the angel’s expression.

“Didn’t know we were exchanging presents early; isn’t our anniversary next week?” Crowley asked and heard Aziraphale’s faint laughter from the other room.

“Yes, but your present arrived early and I just got so excited that I simply couldn’t wait. I hope that’s alright?” The angel’s voice was close again, and Crowley felt the couch cushion sink slightly as Aziraphale took a seat next to her.

“’Course it’s alright, as long as you’re okay with getting your gift on our _actual_ anniversary?”

“Of course, dear! Now, hold out your hands.”

Crowley did so and a large, square object was placed in her open palms. She cracked her eyes open and saw a wrapped present, complete with a fancy golden (obviously lovingly-miracled) bow on top. Eagerly, she ripped away the colorful paper to reveal a framed picture of a circular sky full of constellations. Above the star chart was a very familiar date, while the inscription beneath read: “The Very First Day of the Rest of Our Lives.”

“Angel, what…?” Crowley breathed, staring at the picture in awe.

“It’s a star chart of the sky on the Sunday after the apocalypse-that-wasn’t,” Aziraphale clarified, wringing her hands nervously. It was hard to read the expression on Crowley’s face; she _looked_ happy, but there was also something in her eyes that the angel couldn’t pinpoint. “I… I know that it might not be entirely accurate—it was created by humans, after all, not an all-powerful being like yourself who helped _make_ the stars—but I just thought it might be a nice… memento, I suppose, of when we officially started our lives on our own side.”

“Oh, Aziraphale… I love it.” Crowley’s mouth split into a huge grin as she leaned over to give Aziraphale a peck on the cheek.

“Oh, _wonderful_!” Aziraphale returned the smile, giggling when Crowley trailed light kisses up and down her neck. “I wasn’t sure it was the _right_ gift, you know, so—”

“Angel.” Crowley sat up and placed the picture on the nearby table, then met Aziraphale’s gaze. “You’re the most thoughtful being on this whole blasted planet, and even though I’ll love anything you give me, this is definitely at the top of the present list so far. So stop fretting and just _kiss me,_ will you?”

Aziraphale laughed again, a pretty blush spreading across her face.

“Well, when you put it that way…,” she said, then leaned over to press her lips against her demon’s.


	7. Grow

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Young Warlock comes up with another way to try and get his nanny and gardener together.

**_The Dowling Residence, Before the Not-pocalypse_ **

“Hey, Sister Francis?”

“Yes, Warlock, my boy?” Aziraphale paused her task to glance up at the young boy, arms wrist-deep in soil but a smile on her face. She had been gardening for the past two hours—though Crowley would call it “gardening” in the loosest sense of the word; she was really just moving plants around to keep up the ruse—and Warlock had wandered over about ten minutes prior to watch. As the boy got older, he had less motivation to spend time with the family gardener, so in order for their plan of equal influence to succeed Crowley made sure to convince the boy to hang out with Sister Francis much more than a typical boy of seven usually would.

“Did you know that Nanny Ash loves flowers?” Warlock said, clasping his hands behind his back and rocking back and forth on his heels. His sneakers were somehow already coated in dirt, which Aziraphale knew Crowley would not be too keen about when the boy came bounding into the house later and forgot to take off his shoes.

“Oh, does she now?” Aziraphale answered, her smile growing at the previous thought.

“Yeah.” A short pause, in which the boy looked up at the sky, then down at the ground, before back at the angel. “I, um… I wanna give her one, like as a surprise.”

“Well, I think that’s a wonderful idea.” Aziraphale stood, wiping her gloves off on her work apron. “Why don’t we pick out a nice rose from the bush over there? I do believe they’re in season!”

“Yeah, okay!” Warlock trailed along after the angel. He seemed excited as she grabbed some nearby shears and carefully cut a beautiful red bud, the stalk miraculously free of any barbs that could cut tiny fingers. When Aziraphale tried to hand the flower over, however, the boy didn’t reach out, frowning slightly.

“What’s the matter, dearie?” Aziraphale asked, mildly concerned. The boy was acting quite odd, and she wondered if he might be feeling under the weather.

“It’s just, um…” He trailed off, unconvincingly trying to appear as though he was thinking hard about something, before clarifying: “Oh! I’m supposed to call dad today in a few minutes—you know how he can only talk at certain times.”

“I do indeed,” Aziraphale replied, working hard to hide the annoyance in her tone. Her private thoughts about the ambassador and his wife were not for their son to hear.

“So, since I’m gonna be busy… can _you_ take the flower to Nanny Ash?” Warlock gazed up at Aziraphale, eyes pleading.

“Oh, I…,” Aziraphale paused, thrown off by the request. “Well, yes, I suppose—but I thought _you_ wanted to give it to her?”

“I do, but you can get to her faster! I… I think she’s having a bad day and needs it like now.” The boy nodded somberly, as if exemplifying the gravity of the situation. “Also, um, you don’t need to tell her it’s from me; she’ll know.”

“But, are you _sure_ —”

“Yeah, trust me!” Warlock turned his best puppy-dog eyes upon the angel. Aziraphale was convinced that Crowley taught him to do this, as it was a _very_ effective coercion tactic… and one that she was powerless to resist.

“Alright, dearie,” the angel finally relented, and she swore a mischievous grin flashed across the boy’s face before he abruptly turned and started back towards the house at a rapid pace.

“Thanks, Sister Francis!” he called behind his shoulder with a wave. “You’re the best!”

Aziraphale raised a hand in response, staring after him dumbfounded. She wasn’t quite sure what just happened, but had the feeling that she had been duped in some way. However, now she had a task to do and was loathe to disappoint the antichrist, especially as he got closer to realizing his powers.

With a sigh, she took off her gardening gloves, careful not to disturb the rose in her grasp, and set off to find Crowley.

***

Warlock watched from the doorway as Sister Francis walked towards where Nanny Ash sat on a bench at the other side of the garden. Even when she sent him off to spend time with the gardener, his nanny was never too far behind.

This made it even more frustrating for the boy when they continuously refused to acknowledge their feelings for each other. It was so _obvious,_ even to a child his age who barely understood the concept of true “romantic feelings,” and he was determined to set them up using whatever tactics necessary. He heard somewhere that people gave each other flowers when they liked each other, so he hoped maybe this would at least get the two of them talking, and hopefully their relationship would grow from there.

Even if this attempt didn’t work, Warlock was determined to figure something out. He wouldn’t stop until his kind nanny and sweet gardener, two of his favorite people in the world, were just as happy with each other—or even more so—as he was with them.


	8. Blush

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's difficult to put make-up on a ticklish angel, but Crowley is determined to get Aziraphale dolled up the human way before their date.

“Angel, if you don’t stop moving around, this is _never_ going to get done.”

“I’m sorry, my dear, it’s just— _ha ha!_ —I didn’t realize it would tickle so much— _oh_!” Aziraphale let out a breathless laugh as Crowley stood up, the demon’s eyebrow raised in mock annoyance.

“I’m just doing your make-up; it’s not supposed to _tickle_.”

“W-Well… it does for me.” The angel pursed her lips and closed her eyes, shifting into a more upright position. “Anyway, please disregard my earlier distraction; I’ll try not to move so much. If we don’t finish up soon, I’m afraid we’ll miss our dinner reservation.”

“You know I can just stop time if we’re running late, right?” Crowley asked, but Aziraphale merely wrinkled her nose in response. The demon rolled her eyes with a loving sigh and picked up another brush and a palate of blush. She leaned forward, brush in hand, then paused.

The angel’s face was pleasantly flushed from her earlier laughter and mild embarrassment, a light pink tint to her cheeks that only served to accentuate her features. She looked absolutely breathtaking, and Crowley’s mind short-circuited.

“…My love?” Aziraphale asked after a moment, cracking one eye open to see why she hadn’t yet felt another swathe of makeup. Crowley was leaning forward, mouth slightly parted, staring at her with the most love-struck expression the angel had ever seen. “W-What is it, Crowley?”

“You’re… you’re so gorgeous,” Crowley managed to choke out. “I don’t… How did I get so lucky?”

Aziraphale’s blush deepened, and this time she was the one unable to find any words. Instead, she pulled her love into a sweet kiss, dinner plans temporarily forgotten.

The reservations would miraculously still be there a few hours later, anyway. 


	9. Nap

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes, Crowley's serpent side just wants to curl up on a nice, warm spot and take a nap.

“Crowley? Are you out here?”

Crowley raised her head at the sound of Aziraphale’s voice. She was a bit groggy, having just woken from a lovely nap, and therefore was surprised to see the angel suddenly appear in front of her.

“Oh! There you are, my dear!” Aziraphale exclaimed happily, crouching down with a smile to be eye-level with the tiny serpent currently resting atop a smooth rock. “Whatever are you doing?”

“I wassss taking a nap,” Crowley responded with a flicker of serpent’s tongue. “It’s so nice and ssssunny, I couldn’t resissst.”

“That’s all well and good, but I wish you’d have told me where you’d popped off to first; I’ve been looking for you all over the cottage!”

“Ssssorry, Angel.”

“Oh, it’s quite alright.” The angel’s smile widened as she gave the top of Crowley’s head a gentle pet, soft fingers sliding easily over smooth scales. “Would you like to come inside and have a cup of tea with me?”

“Mmm… but it’s sssso warm out here,” Crowley responded. Aziraphale didn’t think it possible for a snake to pout, but somehow the demon managed it. “I jusssst wanna nap…”

“Hmm… alright.” Aziraphale clapped her palms against her thighs resolutely and stood, then promptly bent down again to pick up the small serpent.

“What’sss thisss, Angel?” Crowley asked curiously, automatically twisting the tip of her tail around Aziraphale’s wrist, flashes of a red underbelly visible as she did so.

“You would like to take a nap in the sun and _I_ would like to spend some time with you, so I’m finding a compromise,” the angel responded simply, and before Crowley knew it she was deposited gently onto Aziraphale’s warm lap. “I’ll sit on this bench and read, and you can continue your sleep.”

“You’re the bessst,” Crowley said, rising up to nudge her snout against Aziraphale’s nose playfully. The angel giggled and bumped her nose back, then snapped her fingers to summon a book into her other hand. Crowley settled back down into the warm softness of her angel’s lap, falling back asleep almost instantly when Aziraphale resumed gently stroking the top of her head.

As she drifted back into her dreams, one final thought floated through Crowley’s mind:

_This is infinitely better than some hard old rock._


End file.
